Other Stories
by thefrenglishgirl
Summary: A collection of short stories featuring Caroline and Klaus.
1. Fate

His hand lay content on her breast, slowly and tenderly caressing it, and smiled when he felt her hand on his. He kept his attention on his painting, his brush whispering to the canvas. It kissed and caressed it, bringing it to life.

She took his hand in both of hers and lifted it to her mouth, dropping a kiss in his palm, and he turned toward her with a smile.

She lay there, eyes closed, a picture of serenity with her blonde locks encircling her face. She brought his hand to her cheek before bringing it back to her mouth. Her voice, her eyes, her touch always did the strangest things to him. Her whole being did the most beautiful things to his heart.

He returned to his painting and stared at it for a few moments. At a loss.

''I love you,'' she sighed, in between kisses.

With every word, with every sigh and caress, smile and kiss, she unmade and remade him.

He put down his brush and went to lie next to her on their bed. He brushed her hair from her forehead with his other hand.

''I love you too,'' he murmured, lips brushing her temple. He nuzzled her hair, breathing her. She smelled of spring and promises.

''Hey, I was thinking.''

''Tell me,'' he said, dropping a kiss on her cheek. He rested his head on her breast and her fingers went immediately to his hair, running through it, soothing him unknowingly.

Or maybe she knew.

''I was thinking that maybe we could go for a few days. Just you and me. Before the baby is born.''

''That would be lovely, sweetheart. Now, where do you want to go?''

''Anywhere. Everywhere.'' He could hear her smile. And he smiled back.

''Well, that's helpful.'' She laughed, shaking under him, and he reveled in the sound.

''It doesn't matter where, as long as I'm with you,'' she told him.

Yes. As long as they were together, everything would be fine.

And to say that he almost passed her by.

To think that he had dismissed her at first, not knowing that he had just met the greatest love of his life.

Looking back, he did not know when he fell in love with her. He remembered when he first saw her and decided that he would not like her. Remembered the first time he caught himself thinking that they could be friends after all and, later on, that they could be more than friends.

He remembered the first time their hands touched, innocent touches at first, the back of a hand brushing an arm, and then lingering touches. Caresses.

He remembered the first time he kissed her, taking her by surprise. Remembered how he reveled in her taste.

He remembered the first time she invited him in her bed, how he soared and crashed in her arms. Remembered how they clung to each other afterward, unable to let go.

But the exact moment he fell in love with her, foolishly, utterly – that, he could not pinpoint.

Maybe it was on his birthday when she presented him with a gift.

She had been full of smiles and hope, holding out her present with trembling hands. She had watched him as he ripped the paper, her big baby blue eyes full of expectation. She hoped he would like it, she had said.

And he did. He could not recall ever receiving a more beautiful gift.

Maybe it was then that he recognized the odd stirring of his heart. And perhaps that is why, confused, and just a little bit scared, he pretended he did not care for it, breaking her heart a little.

Or maybe it was that summer day when they lay sated on her bed, his head on her breast, her fingers combing through his hair, lulling him to sleep. And, as they lay in silence, moving from the comfort of her breast, he looked up at her face. Beautiful and serene, smiling down at him.

A smile full of tenderness and light and promises. A smile that chased away his fears and insecurities.

That smile, he would never forget, cherishing it and storing it in his heart. Perhaps it was then that he realized that he wanted all of her smiles and vowed to himself that he would collect them all.

And there were many more moments like these, moments when he looked at her in awe and wonder. And maybe he had finally come to acknowledge the fact that, from the moment he saw Caroline Forbes, it was the most infinite and the most delicious fall.

Looking back, it had all started when he decided that he would not like her.

What he did not know, at the time, was that Caroline was never one to back down from a challenge.

She was stubborn and neurotic and bright.

Brighter than a thousand suns.

And she loved him.

He was not supposed to befriend her and he certainly did not mean to fall in love with her. But deep down, he knew they were inevitable. All he had needed was a gentle push.

But then again, it was Fate.


	2. The Fool

Their marriage had begun as a contract between two strangers. She helped him secure his inheritance and, in turn, he helped her get more recognition with his name. Quite simple actually. A partnership. No feelings involved.

So, how did it end up like this?

He had no idea.

_Not a freaking clue. _

He watched as she packed her things, running around their room angrily, picking things and shoving them in a large suitcase.

''What are you doing?'' he asked, knowing fully well the answer, and it gripped his heart again.

_Fear._

She looked up from her suitcase and sighed tiredly. ''I'm packing.''

''Why?''

She laughed humorlessly and he did not like the sound of it. ''You know why,'' she said softly, not looking at him.

He knew he had done something terrible, crossed an unspoken, invisible line. They were there for each other. They supported each other. They were a team. And he had turned his back on her. Even worse –

He had turned against her.

''So we had a fight. It's not the first time. And it won't be the last.'' Even he did not believe what he was saying. It was more than a fight.

It was betrayal.

''Please, Caroline,'' he said, reaching for her.

''No,'' she said, shaking her head. ''No,'' she repeated, more firmly, still not looking at him. ''I'm done. I'm done with this,'' she gestured between them. ''Whatever _this_ is.''

''Please, Caroline,'' he said again. ''You're overreacting,'' he tried to reason with her.

She finally looked at him. And, in her eyes, he read all the things she could not say and he froze. They were the mirror of everything he feared and desperately wanted at the same time.

''You don't get it, do you?'' she asked him. She looked at him for a minute and shook her head. She went back to her suitcase and closed it. ''I'll come back for the rest later,'' she said putting on her coat. She lifted her suitcase off the bed and walked to the door.

''No. We need to talk,'' he said, reaching for her suitcase, determined. His fingers brushed against hers and she snatched her hand away, dropping the suitcase. And it hurt.

It hurt, to have her recoil at his touch.

She shook her head again and picked up the suitcase. ''No. You've said everything there was to say. And you meant every word, don't deny it,'' she said, looking at him in the eye.

The truth was he did not mean it. Oh, he wanted to mean it. But he did not. So, when he implied to Rebekah that his marriage was making him miserable and that he longed to be free again, he had lied. But the shadows of betrayal he had witnessed in Caroline's eyes when he turned and saw her standing behind him, it had made him feel like the biggest jerk in the Mikaelson family.

And that said something.

And to make things worse, instead of apologizing like any decent human being would, he had started a fight, calling her needy and insecure. He had betrayed her in the worst possible way, _he knew_. He had to use her insecurities against her, use what she had told him in confidence. Break her a little bit because he felt weak.

Because she made him feel weak.

And still now, when she was standing in front of him, sad and pale, he could not let go.

''I get that you're angry, I was out of line, but don't act as though I have broken your heart,'' he said desperately – accusingly. ''I never misled you. This marriage was never meant to be something more than a means to an end!''

She looked down. ''I see.'' There was something raw, something wounded, in the way she spoke. Something broken. He watched her as she stood unmoving, biting her lower lip. He watched as she tried her best to stay strong in front of him. ''Well, maybe it is for me,'' she said softly, looking up.

She looked at him, searched for something in his eyes, but she did not seem to find what she was looking for. She sighed. ''I love you. I thought you knew that by now.''

He did not move. Too stunned by her confession. Something contracted in him and, for a moment, he thought he was going to be sick.

He had longed for such a confession. But not like this. Never like this.

''But it doesn't matter,'' she continued and she shook her head with a sad smile. ''It never mattered, I guess.'' She took a deep breath. ''In two weeks, when the contract is up, I will ask for a divorce. You'll be free. Good bye, Klaus.''

She left their room and he stood motionless, listening as her suitcase bumped along the stairs.

_Good bye._

She was leaving him.

The best thing that had happened to him in years. A friend and a confident. A muse and a lover. All in one beautiful blonde tornado. He was going to lose her.

How could he ever live without her now that he had had her in his life?

His life would never be the same because –

Because he – he wanted her with him.

Always. Always.

The truth punched him in the gut and horror descended upon him, its cold claws closing around him; it chewed him up and spit him out, leaving him weaker than he had ever been.

As much as he tried to dismiss it, smother it. Kill it.

He needed her –

Because she –

Because she had become the one thing he could not live without.

_Because he loved her._

He was in love with her.

He was in love with his wife.

And she was leaving him.

No. No. No. No.

NO!

The thought of losing her sprung him into action. ''Caroline! Caroline, wait! Wait!'' He ran after her like a demented soul, almost falling down the stairs, breaking his neck. He reached her before she had even managed to open the front door. ''Wait!''

She looked at him annoyed. ''Klaus, stop. Plea – '' He took her face in his hands and smothered her words with a kiss. A kiss that was unlike any other they had shared. It was not tentative or passionate. It was not driven by wonder or lust.

It was a confession. His own confession. About her.

His lips and his hands told her reverently. They caressed her. They told her she was precious. And loved. They told her that he needed her. And that he was sorry.

She dropped the suitcase and held on to him for support as he continued to kiss her, pressing her against him. Showing her, making her understand, that she was not alone in this. Never was.

''I'm a fool,'' he said, when he released her lips, and his nose brushed hers tenderly. ''I'm a fool,'' he repeated. ''I thought you knew that by now,'' he looked at her, hopeful.

''You're a fool,'' she repeated, her eyes closed, dazed from his kiss, and he could not help but smile.

''And I love you,'' he said, feeling suddenly even more anxious now that it was in the open. Because, even though he was fearless, he was afraid of her. She opened her eyes and he brushed her upper cheek with his thumb. ''Please, say something.''

''I'm not sure I understand,'' she said licking her lips and his heart dropped. He looked away. ''I think it would be better if you showed me,'' she continued and he felt her hand on his cheek. He looked at her face, beaming brightly, and he let out a breath, relieved.

''I'll show you,'' he said, cupping her face. ''I'll show you every day, I promise,'' he repeated, kissing her again and again. ''I'll show you. I love you. I love you, Caroline.''

He showed her all night long. And the day after. And the day after.

He never stopped showing her.

The fool.


End file.
